


The Other Side

by pantswarrior



Series: The Cultists' Cycle [18]
Category: Vagrant Story
Genre: Community: areyougame, M/M, Magic, Religions, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-08
Updated: 2010-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantswarrior/pseuds/pantswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardin had only heard the voices of the gods when they inhabited Sydney's body, until Sydney offered him a way to ask them directly - what do they want of him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side

It was not something to do lightly, Sydney had warned him. A mortal body could not withstand the realm in which the gods dwelt, and neither could the mind of a man comprehend what he might see if he was allowed a glimpse. Some had been driven mad.

Hardin understood the dangers; he had seen Sydney after his conversations with the gods. Even his flesh, immune to the threats of swords and arrows and disease, was left weak and ill, affected by the journey to the threshold of a world in which he did not truly belong, so long as he still had flesh at all. But as it had been Hardin who watched over him in his infirmity, he knew what to expect, and was not afraid.

"You should be afraid," Sydney told him, even as they made their way to the darkness below the temple, where he would begin. "Yet the gods themselves - they care for you, and will guide you home when you have received what you must receive. You need not fear them."

"I do not fear them," Hardin stated. Their favor had been shown him many times since coming to Müllenkamp, and it would be nonsensical for them to change their minds at this time. Sydney had even told Hardin that they welcomed his questioning. Sydney would not lie when it meant his life, and neither would they.

The edge of Sydney's mouth curled. "You shall."

And perhaps he would. In truth, Hardin's faith was nowhere near so strong as Sydney's. He had seen the wonders worked, and although he could believe in the wonders, the idea of beings who controlled the world itself and everything within through the same energies he himself made use of... he could not quite convince himself that beings of such a scope existed. And if they did, he was not entirely convinced that they cared about the doings of any single creature, let alone a relatively ordinary man such as John Hardin. That was why he desired to meet with them - to see for himself.

Sydney had said they were willing to answer his questions. Sydney was different, of course - not an ordinary man at all. He was both like and unlike the gods, a once-mortal who had been entrusted with one of these world-working powers. They took note of Sydney, they protected and instructed him. He was in a sense their younger, almost infant brother... or perhaps a favored servant, born in the household and given a place at the table. There was little difference. Meeting the gods, Hardin thought, was not unlike meeting Sydney's family.

And what a family to meet, he acknowledged, beginning to feel the slightest hint of hesitation after all.

"They care for you," Sydney told him again, helping Hardin to sit upon the stone floor, within a magic circle. It might have seemed strange to accept assistance from Sydney, when he was larger and physically stronger, but Hardin had been fasting in preparation, swallowing only the draughts Sydney had given, elixirs to enhance one's inborn spiritual capabilities. The last had been only minutes before, milky and sickly-sweet, and Hardin's vision had been blurred since.

His Sight, on the other hand, was sharper and clearer, allowing him to see even in the darkness underground. He watched as Sydney completed the ritual for him, as well as he was able, arranging the elements about him. A stone, a bone, a cup filled with water, a glass vial in which something swirled, a flower. The last he placed was a torch, and the flint was pressed into Hardin's hand. "Do you wish to turn back?" Sydney murmured, and Hardin could tell from his tone that it was the last time he intended to ask.

It did not matter. "I do not."

Sydney's lips pressed against his, and in Hardin's state of increased sensitivity, Sydney's hair brushing his cheek was as coarse as a handful of twigs. Hardin would have wished for Sydney to accompany him, but he could not; one of them needed to remain in this world, unaffected by the next, to help the other as they found their way home. "I will know when you have returned," Sydney told him, and the claw-like, metal fingers felt like ice against Hardin's scalp. "Take care."

Hardin simply nodded. Already the mortal realm seemed unwelcoming compared to that which the Dark had permitted him to see. His own flesh was heavy and awkward, a burden that his soul wished to leave behind. He was in danger before even attempting the journey, he recognized, for he _could_ have given into that urge...

More clearly than Sydney, hesitating just beyond the circle, Hardin could see not only the circle, but the lines of power pulsing throughout the room and beyond, intersecting with one another so close to the center of the city. He watched, fascinated, until his physical body asserted its presence once more, a need for air making itself known with the burn in his lungs.

...Burn, yes. The flint Sydney had given him was still in his hand, and he fumbled with it as he made himself inhale, struggling to light the torch that lay a short distance away. It was no wonder Sydney had not brought a candle, Hardin thought idly, for it would have been far more challenging to light when his hands did not seem to be his own - and even when he did manage to light the torch, he was unable to move quickly enough to avoid burning his finger.

The physical pain was sudden and alarming, but utterly alien, for Hardin's consciousness was somewhere else. There was a curious sensation, as if he were floating, and he was not alone.

He could see them, nearly, without the use of his eyes. Five of them. Once his mind managed to comprehend that, he knew them at once.

One had the appearance of a pale young woman, nearly transparent but edged with blue-silver, and changing before his eyes - always with a sense of light laughter as she danced here and there. One was a man impossibly large, the folds of his clothing nearly covering him except for his mouth and nose, which was pierced with a great ring...

 _You know us, John Hardin._ It was an intonation from a tall, thin, horned being dressed in gold, whose hair flickered from red to orange to white.

"I do..." Or he knew who they were supposed to be; they seemed less impressive than he might have expected. Not so incomprehensible as to cause madness, he could nearly describe them in his own terms. They looked much like he might have imagined them, in fact. And this was Leá Monde - the spirits here had been known to deceive.

 _You could not withstand us as we are,_ said a woman, covered only by her wings. She was dark as the richest soil and just as fertile, judging from the fullness of her bare breast and the curve of her belly. _We have taken on appearances to make it simpler for you._

 _Do not forget that you are of us,_ said another woman, - or the shape of a woman, which shone like the sun, with flowers blooming in her hair and a voice clear as the ringing of chapel bells. _We understand your limitations. We wish you no harm, but only understanding._

Yes, he knew them. The sound of the voice of Kadesh, goddess of Light and love, removed Hardin's doubts. "I... I thank you..." Hardin struggled to remember the proper form of address for a god, if indeed he had ever been told of one.

Tamulis, god of Fire, seemed to chuckle. _You need not address us with your terms._

 _We **are** ,_ agreed the sea-sprite Talia. _We need no further testimony._

"Yes..." Hardin understood. Simply being in their presence, he understood a great deal.

 _You have come seeking us,_ said Marduk, the storm-god who rode upon the Air. _Yet we have existed in perpetuity - what more do you seek, beyond us?_

The questions that Hardin might have asked the gods directly had been driven from his mind, made unimportant by the simple knowledge that they were there. They knew him, and had made themselves available for him. Only two questions remained, and one was ever-present, throughout all time. He had asked Sydney, and Sydney told him that even he could not give a proper answer - that it was beyond mankind's understanding. The other seemed small, inconsequential. Yet respectful, and thus he asked, bowing his head in humility. "What would you have your servant do?"

A soft touch upon his shoulder roused him, and he looked up to see the wings of Palolo, Earth mother, reaching out to cover him. _Our child,_ she corrected him. _All men are our offspring, made by us and of us._

 _Yet your obedience is welcomed,_ added Tamulis. _There is abundant work for all who would call upon our name in faith._

 _Yours is a unique position,_ said Marduk. _You freely give all that we ask._

His life, Hardin wondered? He knew there were prophecies of which Sydney did not tell him, and had guessed at what they may be.

 _Sydney is unlike any who live - indeed, any who have lived,_ said Kadesh.

 _Stay with him,_ said Talia.

 _Let him make use of your strength,_ suggested Marduk.

 _We only ask,_ said Kadesh, _that you love him, and care for him._

Hardin paused, nearly taken aback. Though there were moments when Sydney was most unlovable, they were asking him for nothing he had not already intended.

 _He may work in our realms, and there might we protect him,_ Palolo explained, _but he must spend far more of his time in yours._

 _You are his helper in ways we cannot be,_ Talia told Hardin, stepping forward in fluid motions to stand before him.

 _Even we gods cannot succeed without one another,_ Tamulis observed. _You complement him well._

 _His life has been difficult,_ said Kadesh. _More difficult times still lie ahead of him._

And Hardin understood. Seldom would a mortal look upon the gods, after all - he was there because of Sydney. And they loved Sydney, who had dared to give so much of himself to do their work though he was not like them. To them, he was more man than god, as opposed to the way that other men saw him as more god than man. They doted upon him. They worried about him. They wished for his happiness... and they saw that Hardin fulfilled a need in Sydney's life that they could not.

Aside, perhaps, from their role in bringing a man such as himself to a place where he could have played such a part for Sydney. The events that had led to their chance meeting had been unwaveringly terrible, and although Sydney helped him to come to terms, the first, ever-present question he had not asked returned to his thoughts. "I will not leave him," Hardin told them. "This I promise. It is only to satisfy my own curiosity that I must ask one more question."

They knew, of course, before he asked. _Our ways are beyond your own,_ Marduk told him.

 _And that is all most men may comprehend,_ added Tamulis. _And yet, you have come._

 _Have you further questions beyond this?_ Kadesh asked. _Or have you more?_

Hardin did not. "My life with Sydney has been strange, but wonderful," he acknowledged. "You have told me what you want from me. If I might come to understand why my life has been filled to overflowing with ill luck while others prosper for their greed... that is all I could ask."

 _Then come,_ Kadesh bid him, holding out insubstantial hands. _Come, and see._

Around her arms twined something like a rose vine, or perhaps a serpent... and before Hardin could determine how he was to take the hands of a goddess made of light, when he was no more than a shade himself, suddenly what was left of the mortal world was torn asunder.

What he saw - and he did not see it, for he had no eyes - could not be described with words he knew, if indeed he could remember how to communicate when faced with such wonders. He saw the smallness of the land, only a small portion of a small world that was one of millions - and yet how great was each creature that dwelt therein. Each had a voice, telling its story alone, and together they made up a glorious song that spoke of existence itself. The five beings that had taken physical appearances for his sake were still present, but not beside him. They were everywhere, in everything, running through all of creation, for the whole of eternity. It was blinding, deafening, terrifying in its vastness, and he had no defense against the onslaught.

All he could do was embrace it, let it overwhelm him - and then, in an instant, he understood. He understood _everything_.

Then it was dark, and silent, or so it seemed. He had taken up his flesh once more, and it loathed the physical world as much as his soul, attempting to reject it; choking on the air it instinctively breathed, his stomach turning at the presence of the elixirs he'd swallowed. His body ached at the heaviness of the stone floor as if it were atop him rather than below him, and then he became aware of someone holding him, urging him to "Breathe, Hardin... breathe. Slowly."

The voice of a man, not a god. The voice of Sydney. Though his physical form still seemed burdensome, Hardin tried to follow Sydney's instructions. Sydney had been through this many a time. Sydney had seen what he had seen... and upon reflection, Hardin found that he could not make any sense of what he had seen. The epiphany he had experienced was no longer something he could comprehend, much less explain.

"Do not try," Sydney whispered, holding Hardin tight against his chest. "You understand, now, why a man might go mad."

He did. Hardin found Sydney's palm, wrapped his own shaking hand around it. He might have spoken, but he could not.

The torch had gone out. The vial and cup were empty, the stone crumbled, the flower withered when Hardin collected himself enough to scrye their surroundings. The bone had turned black, strangely enough, as if burned in a fire. And Sydney was still supporting him, metal arms cold and stiff around Hardin's back, sharp fingers carefully resting upon his hair. "How are you feeling?" Sydney asked quietly.

Complicated, ill-fitted, stunned... "Quite mortal," was Hardin's mumbled reply. And after a moment's thought, "Also pleased."

"Oh...?"

Hardin might not have dared to say it, had he been thinking more clearly. "I think... I understand you better now."

The way Sydney exhaled told him that Sydney was amused. It seemed strange to fall back to such primitive expressions to guess at what someone was thinking or feeling, after what Hardin had experienced in the realm of the gods, but he would have to reaccustom himself. "How so?" Sydney inquired.

The analogy he had considered earlier seemed somehow more appropriate. He had always been able to grasp Sydney's humanity... but now, he had been introduced to those relatives responsible for the other half of Sydney's lineage. "I know all of you," he murmured tiredly.

"...Hm." Sydney said nothing more, and Hardin fell silent too, resting against him and hoping that his skin would soon become more hospitable. He was still a mortal, even having met the gods... and Sydney needed both sides of his family.

**Author's Note:**

> This was not a part of the timeline when I first started posting the series, but the prompt at areyougame fit in very nicely. I'd always wanted to write something with Hardin actually interacting with the gods.
> 
> The gods in question are named in the game, specifically in certain accessories which boost each element particularly powerfully. Some are not called gods, but since others are, and the accessories all boost elemental power equally, I'm extrapolating.


End file.
